Grip
by Stephane Richer
Summary: He breathes in the familiar scent of potato chips and something fruity before he realizes that Atsushi is pulling the flaps of his jacket around both of them and zipping it up so they're trapped inside together.


Grip

Disclaimer: Don't own_._

* * *

Midorima's halfway through the train ride when he remembers that it's fucking cold in Akita, and he's only wearing a sweater. They most likely won't be outside for long, although Atsushi does have a tendency to walk slowly and wander around. Midorima had checked the location online before he left, and the Yosen dorms aren't all that far from the train station (yet somehow he hadn't checked the weather). Midorima sighs; there's nothing he can do about it now.

A while later, the train arrives in Akita. He steps off into the station and shivers. It's colder than he'd anticipated. Maybe that's because it's already dark; the lights from the train station bathing everything in sharp artificial contrast. At first, Midorima doesn't see him what with the fluorescent glare coming off his glasses and his eyes adjusting to the light. Then, suddenly, there he is, walking toward Midorima with a sort of goofy smile plastered to his face and several sticks of pocky sticking out of his mouth. People stream by them, eager to reach their destination, and they do not glance down to where Atsushi clasps Midorima's hand in his own.

Instinctively, Midorima pulls back but his boyfriend's grip is just too strong and he doesn't let go. He can't think too much more about this because Atsushi's already pulling him through the station with the flow of people, and down through an exit staircase.

In the totally open street air, it's even colder. The shadows are even deeper, as most of the stores are already closed for the night and the streetlights are few and far between. They look like statues, larger than life. Midorima stuffs his other hand into his shallow jeans pocket and presses Atsushi's warm arm between his arm and his side.

"Ah, it's cold out, isn't it?"

Midorima's face is red (not just because of the temperature). "I'm fine."

"Hm," Atsushi relinquishes his grip on Midorima's hand and unzips his jacket. "Here." He points to his torso.

"What?"

Atsushi pulls Midorima roughly against him, knocking Midorima's glasses askew as his face is muffled in Atsushi's chest. He breathes in the familiar scent of potato chips and something fruity before he realizes that Atsushi is pulling the flaps of his jacket around both of them and zipping it up so they're trapped inside together. It's surprising that the jacket is capable of holding both of them (it's a little snug, but the coat can encircle both of them and zip up easily so it should be fine) because it didn't look all that big on Atsushi. Still, that's not really the issue here, is it?

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Warming you up," Atsushi says like it's the most obvious, natural answer.

"We could have just walked back to your dorm room."

"It'll be a much nicer walk when you're warm."

Atsushi's body is generating heat, and now that they're pressed so tightly together Midorima can feel his own body heating up somewhat. Atsushi's hot breath on his neck tickles slightly and Midorima's mouth twitches. Atsushi's breathing grows closer, and then he licks Midorima's ear.

Midorima sighs. The warm, wet tongue sends a jolt through him. His ears have become slightly numb from the cold already but there's still enough feeling for him to be startled and aroused. Atsushi keeps licking, nibbling along the top of the ear and Midorima can't control himself but he tries to shy away from the contact. After a few seconds of Midorima struggling to resist, Atsushi takes his mouth off of Midorima's ear and presses a kiss to the side of his neck.

Midorima's breaths are slow and deep and shuddering as he leans his head against Atsushi's chest.

"Hm, yes, you're warm enough now," Atsushi decides, unzipping the jacket and letting Midorima out.

"I wasn't cold in the first place."

* * *

Atsushi just kind of...tenses. He's never tense, likes to leave his body splayed out so it takes up the whole room (God, that wingspan, without Midorima's glasses and with only the distant streetlight from the window illuminating the pale arms it almost looks like they're swans' wings, his fingers long and delicate barbed feathers at the end until he clenches his fists, against the sheets so they ride up on the mattress) but his legs are pushing up, knees knocking into Midorima's hips and scraping his sides, shoulders moving inward and elbows coming across his chest, lips parted but teeth pressed together and eyes squeezed shut. The sweat trickles down his face, matting his bangs into clumps. He's so tight around Midorima, making his breath hitch. He can't supress a low moan, and Atsushi opens his eyes at the sound.

Then they are nearly silent, the only sounds coming from labored breaths and weights shifting against the creaky old mattress. Atsushi releases the covers from his grip, lets his fingers fall into being feathers again, slides his feet farther down on the bed until they're up against Midorima's ankles. Midorima slowly moves his hips, and his cock slides almost all the way out of Atsushi, and then he thrusts back in. Atsushi whines and clenches his hands again. Midorima pulls out and goes in again. Faster, harder, their pupils dilate and sweat drips down Midorima's nose and onto Atsushi's chest as they shake and shudder and crash into one another's hips and legs.

Atsushi finishes first, chest still heaving as Midorima continues to move inside of him until he comes, falling almost on top of Atsushi but catching himself with his elbow just a few centimeters above Atsushi's chest. Their noses are almost touching; violet eyes meet green ones. Atsushi grabs Midorima and pulls him down on top of him, then rolls over so they're both on their sides and yawns before planting a slobbery kiss on Midorima's cheek. He's about to fall asleep when Midorima extracts himself from Atsushi's arms.

Sleepy violet eyes open. "Mido-chin?"

"I'm going to take a shower."

"Hmm." Midorima climbs over him awkwardly and starts shuffling around. By the time he gives up and asks Atsushi where he keeps his towels, Atsushi's already asleep.

* * *

He returns from the shower relatively refreshed. Of course, he's just going to get into bed with Atsushi, who's still pretty dirty, but he can just take another shower in the morning (after all, they'll probably have sex again in the morning and he'll get sweat and come all over him again) and in the scheme of things, an extra shower isn't really that big of a deal. After all, they get so little time together.

Midorima shivers. He's still wet, and the radiator in the room doesn't work too well. He rifles through the top drawer of Atsushi's dresser and finds a shirt, one that's way too big on him (it might even be loose on Atsushi). He puts it on anyway and feels it soak up the drops of water still on his skin, clinging and draping itself over him. Atsushi's still asleep, covers half-off, facing the wall. Midorima takes off his glasses and crawls under the covers, taking a minute to stare at Atsushi's magnificent back muscles. But he's tired, too. He places his arm around Atsushi's waist and closes his eyes.


End file.
